Self defence
by AirborneGirl
Summary: You're sick and tired of feeling unsafe. Perhaps a certain DS is willing to teach you some self-defence moves. Alesha/Matt pairing. Rating to be on the safe side.


**AN: **Just a thought that wouldn't leave me alone. So you're now to suffer from it. Or perhaps enjoy it...

**Disclaimer: **Story is mine. Too bad Jamie Bamber is not and neither is Law and Order: UK.

**Self defence**

Okay…can someone remind you why exactly this seemed to be a good idea at the time? Why hadn't anybody warned you there were alternative solutions to your problem? That there would be no need for you to embarrass your best mate like this? Or yourself for that matter?

Well, truth is, you probably wouldn't have listened to them anyway. Whereas your tenacity comes in handy in the courtroom (though you're still no match to James), it has taught your friends a thing or two about trying to change your mind.

Like not to.

So what is this so-called precarious situation you find yourself in? Okay, picture this…you're in an abandoned gym, located in the basement of the police station's M.I.U. You're dressed in a sports bra and track pants and he's wearing a tank top and shorts. The 'he' in this picture is your friend DS Matt Devlin works.

That very same DS Matt Devlin is now lying on top of you, pinning you down in what can easily be misconstrued as a compromising position. Add to the mix your profusely sweating bodies and panting breaths and you can imagine how things will look on CCTV. You wonder for a split second how to bribe Angela to lose this footage. Throw coffee over it or burn it to cinders and never ever discuss it again. Never. Ever.

This has never happened.

What made it happen, one might wonder. How did this awkward scene, with DS Matt Devlin, known to all womankind as DS Delicious, hovering over you like a predator with his prey, come to be? Well…like you said, it seemed like a very good idea. At the time. Some weeks ago.

_Rewind to last month…_

Being sick and tired of feeling afraid whenever you had to venture out on the streets of London on your own after dark, you know you have to come up with a permanent solution. You don't want to become a hermit (yet). Arming yourself with your keys, hairspray and even an illegal bottle of pepper spray (courtesy of yet again the same Matt, who conveniently forgot his oath to uphold the law when it came to protecting you) can only get you so far. So you tried several alternatives before finally resolving yourself to the one solution that constantly kept crawling up, not allowing you to put it out of your mind. It even seemed like the harder you tried, the more permanently it got stuck in the forefront of your brain.

Clearly you could recall the tedious, painful self-defence classes you took at a local community centre last week. Being the oldest woman there ( the average age was about twenty) and also, as you found out, the only one who had actually been assaulted, it consequently meant you were the only one willing to take it seriously. The well meaning teachers tried to show the gathered group of women some basic tricks, but none of them seemed to grasp the importance as they giggled and snorted and tried to flirt with the not too shabby looking young man burdened with the task of playing the assailant.

No, that didn't quite help you, so you didn't finish all four sessions, even if you paid for all of them in advance.

But then what? Simply talk about it with some therapist? Maybe, but would that therapist walk you home afterwards? Get a dog? Out of the question with your work schedule. Besides, you have a cat and even if it's not a high maintenance animal (though it could do with a little less diva attitude; but it's a cat), it's quite enough, considering some days you barely remember to feed yourself.

So the next moment (the very next moment) the unwanted solution pushed its way up again, you figure 'what the hell' and just go with it.

To both your horror and your surprise, Matt, after slight consideration, agrees to help you. That was several weeks ago and ever since then, you've met up with him at the gym after official closing time (how he got the keys is something you're sure you don't want to know) every Friday evening, while he teaches you some self-defence tricks.

You're getting a bit better every time and you revel in his praise as he well and truly doesn't go easy on you, stating quite correctly that a potential assailant is not going to show you the courtesy of gentility either.

And yet, these little get-togethers provide you with a danger you had forgotten to take into account. It's the danger of your heartbeat getting out of control, which has nothing to do with the exertion of your training and everything to do with being so close to Matt you can count the drops of sweat on his forehead.

Besides, it might be your vivid mind playing tricks on you, but is does seem like it's taking him longer and longer every time to let go of you and help you up after he has successfully pinned you to the floor. The first time it scared you and he was quick to apologize, but now your traitorous body responds to his nearness in a way you had thought died the very day Merrick took his chances and your faith in mankind.

Now he grins, struggles to get on his feet and reaches out to help you get on yours. His beautiful smile is contagious and you grin back like an idiot.

He throws you a bottle of water and eagerly, you gulp it down. The gym is a warm place at any given moment and with the temperature between the two of you rising, you need to cool off. As he opens his own water supply, you wonder if he's affected by this too. His shorts are kind of baggy, so you can't really tell. Oh help, Alesha. Get your mind out of that gutter. This is supposed to be a self defence lesson, not a prelude to the freakin' Kama Sutra!

After he has emptied half of his bottle, he recaps it and stores it in his gym bag, grabbing a towel to wipe his brow.

"You're really improving, Alesha."

You glow at his well-meant compliment.

"Thanks. But you still surprised me with that last move."

"True, but it's getting harder to come up with moves that might catch you off guard. I doubt any attacker will go through this much trouble after you've warded them off the first times or two. Or three, it they're really stubborn."

"Hey, they might think I'm worth it."

He raises his eyebrows at you, his expression dangling helplessly between amused and confused. Conmused it is. It looks adorable on him.

"If a man thinks you're worth the fight, he might as well buy you dinner first."

"Is that an offer, DS Devlin?"

He shakes his head and quickly, you hide your disappointment, forgetting for a moment that he always buys you dinner after your little 'classes'. Nothing too fancy, just pizza or chips at the local pub, but still, you've come to enjoy those private dinners just as much as you're come to love these workouts. Heck, you get along so well, you're half a mind to send Merrick a thank you note.

"No, I'm of duty. Dinner tonight is brought to you by Matt. Should you choose to accept it of course."

As an answer, your stomach grumbles, making him grin.

"I'll take that as a yes. Let's go get showered and changed and get the hell out of here."

Ignoring the little jolt your stomach (okay…somewhere a little lower than that) produces as an answer to the mental image of the two of you sharing a shower, courtesy of a sick, consensual sex deprived brain, you grab your things and make a beeline for the lady's dressing room, hiding your flushed face in your towel.

Half an hour later, you're clean and dressed in the office outfit you wore before getting here. Matt is already waiting for you in the entrance hall. Gallantly holding the door open for you, he follows you out into the dreary, chilly evening air and carefully locks the door behind him. Again, you don't ask him how or where he got the keys, trusting he wouldn't do anything illegal (other than giving you the pepper spray that is).

He gently takes your arm as you set off, taking you by surprise as, on the outside, he's not a very outspoken tactile person. In fact, other than as your sparring partner, he hardly ever touches you, let alone in public. Still, he seems to be in a strange mood tonight, so you let him.

The next surprise comes as he bypasses your regular pub and moves away from the busier streets. It's a testimony to your faith in him that you don't question his (your) destination. You simply and silently let him lead you to wherever it is he wants you to go.

Eventually, he stopped at a small, infinitely stylish and genuine Italian restaurant. You have to say, you're really surprised, thinking you had figured out the inner secrets of the city very well. Still, it's nice to know there are always more treasures to unearth even in a big buzzing place like London.

Gallantly, Matt opens the door for you. A small, plump and very Italian looking middle-aged woman strolls out from the kitchen area to greet her guests and lets out a squeal of delight when she spots Matt. She's faster than you think and before you know it, she's enveloping him in a motherly embrace, pinching his cheeks (you smother a laugh), calling him Matteo and jabbering on and on in fast Italian. To your even bigger astonishment, he doesn't only seem to understand her perfectly well, he even answers her in his own fluent Italian.

Dear God, it sounds sexy. Where on earth did he learn that and how come you didn't know?

Halfway into his monologue, he mentions your name and takes your hand and before you know it, you find yourself being smothered in a motherly embrace which is very hard to resist. Despite of your normal reservations with new people on your path, you can't help but love this woman. She's so real and kind in her approach, it's hard to resist such exuberance. Plus, she seems to

Never stopping their conversation, complete with the gesticulations that somehow seem to mandatory, she leads the two of you to a small, secluded table. It has everything. The chequered tablecloth. The candle in the empty Chianti bottle. And the delicious smell of fresh herbs wafting in from the kitchen, making your stomach rumble in response. No need for a Michelin star for you to know the food must be wonderful.

Once you're seated, complimentary bottle of wine opened in front of you (no no, Matteo no pay for drink) and menu's handed out, you finally do ask him the obvious questions, all in one go.

"Okay…spill it Matt. You speak Italian? You never tell me about this place, yet you seem to know these people very well? I want a confession out of you, dear fellow."

Matt grins and slowly swirls his wine around in his glass, sniffing it and taking a slow sip, teasingly stalling the moment he has to answer, ignoring your impatience.

"I've known the Albertini family since I was six years old, when the youngest of their five kids and the only son, Gianni, ended up sharing my desk at school. We were very close friends from day one and I often went home with him after school to help him with his homework. His mother, Constanza, whom you've just met, never asked me if I'd like to stay for dinner. She just put down an extra plate. Soon enough, I'd spend more time at their home than at my own. And that's how I learned Italian too. I kind of had to. I'm just glad it has stuck."

"So now you're like another son to them. Do you ever get to see Gianni?"

A look of pain crosses his face and you already feel that whatever comes next, it can't be good. And you're right. It's not.

"Gianni died of acute leukaemia when we were only fifteen. They had tested everyone in the family for a bone marrow match and I had myself tested too. He had one transplant with his eldest sister's marrow, which was the closest match, but his body rejected it. It was downhill from that moment."

He pauses his story, taking a gulp from his glass and spluttering a little, but you're quite sure the tears in his eyes have nothing to do with his drinking too fast. In a sorry attempt to comfort him, you put your hand over his. He retracts his hand and you're momentarily hurt, until he entwines your fingers with his own, smiling at you. Perhaps it's the candlelight, but his eyes have never been more open, more blue, more loving.

"I was a pallbearer at his funeral. It was the first time I'd ever been to one. I'll never forget his mother's face when she made me promise I would keep coming by. She even said she didn't want to lose both her sons. I've never forgotten that. And so I've kept my promise."

He looks around him and catches the eye of a man in his mid forties coming out of the kitchen, who nods and smiles as he too recognizes his guest. He makes some small talk in rapid Italian, kisses your hand at your introduction and takes your order, all with the same elegant yet efficient moves.

"That was Stefano, married to Gabriella, Gianni's eldest sister. They run this family restaurant. They're great people. I wanted you to get to know them."

You're flattered as you can tell that this close-knit Italian family is more important to him than perhaps even his own mother and sister. Here, within their home, Matt has found the warmth his own family lacked and even though they've had to overcome a huge tragedy, it's clear the love they feel for one another has kept them going. And that 'Matteo' is as much a part of it as Gianni was and would have been.

Perhaps, one day, they might even include you…

After a while, the food arrives and it is every bit as tasty as you expected it to be. It's freshly made with honest ingredients and lots of love. The family leaves you alone for now as more guests come in, all being greeted as if they're long lost friends. A new bottle of wine magically appears on your table, but neither one of you notices as you and Matt have retreated to your own little corner of the world.

The meal comes to an end with some wonderful tiramisu and the mandatory cup of espresso, making you simultaneously drowsy from the alcohol and perked up by the caffeine. But it's okay. Nothing can bring your mood down tonight.

After some serious squabbling over the bill (Matteo no pay, family no pay) during which you never find out if it does get paid and some more hugs for the both of you, Matt helps you in your coat and again, you find yourself in the chilly night air. Still, it's a bit refreshing after the warmth of family, food, wine and the man you love letting you into his life just a little.

Curious to know and hoping you won't burst the bubble, you ask him why he decided to take you here tonight instead of your usual careless snack joint.

He shrugs a little.

"Culmination of reasons really. For one, I haven't been here for a while so it was about time. I really missed them. Second, I thought it would be nice for you to meet them and vice versa. I knew you'd love them and they would love you."

He looks very pleased with himself and you're not too secretly glad he's happy with the introductions made. Like you all passed some mutual test or something.

"That…and there's one more thing I…I don't know how to say."

Oops. That does not sound good at all.

"What is it Matt? Anything wrong?"

"No, not really. It's just that…" He stops, turns to face you and takes both your hands in his own.

"This defence classes. You've become real good. I don't think there's much more I can teach you and I was wondering when you were going to tell me you don't need them anymore.."

Is it the streetlights playing tricks on you or is he blushing?

"I guess that's why I got the idea of making this more attractive to you. You know, more like a date without it actually being a date. Because I understand if you're not ready to go there or just not with me…I just…I don't want you to not need me anymore."

Your jaw drops in astonishment. Here you though he was merely doing you a friendly favour and that you were the only one secretly enjoying it more than you planned to. In fact, you were dreading the moment he would tell you he needed to stop your moments together. Now he makes it sound like he too never wants this to end. Like he too clearly enjoys himself on these Friday nights. And now he's afraid his little grasshopper is ready to take on the world on her own again. And leave him behind. He was trying to ease you into dating him, so you would still want to continue this little ritual of yours.

You do. Need him, want him, want to date him, want to keep sparring with him. You've got to make him see that. You just got to.

"Matt…assault me."

"What?"

"Act like you're coming for me. Like we practiced."

Still not understanding what you're planning, he does as you ask. Without putting up a fight at all, you let him pin you against the wall of the restaurant you've just left. His breath is irregular as he looks at you questioningly. You give him a small smile.

"You see, I'm still helpless. At your mercy. I've forgotten everything you've taught me so far. We might need to start all over again."

The smile on his own handsome features tells you he's gotten the message loud and clear.

"So if I were to do this…" He leans in closer and brushes his lips against yours.

"I wouldn't know what to do to prevent it," you gasp before closing the distance and pressing your mouth firmly against his.

The two of you stay that way for indeterminable moments, kissing, caressing, tasting. You find heaven in a small, dank London back alley. Perfect for a planned assault on your heart.

As you reluctantly break your connection for something as mundane as breathing, Matt grins in between his heavy panting.

"Would you promise me one thing, Alesha love?"

"Sure, anything, Matteo."

He smiles at your use of the only nickname he endures and secretly loves.

"Promise me I'll forever be the only assailant who gets to do this to you."

That one's easy to make and easy to keep.

"I promise. Everybody else who tries will get their arse kicked."

"Can you do that?"

"I think I can. I had some very interesting self-defence classes."

THE END

Okay..Suffer or enjoy? Either way, let me know...


End file.
